Breaking Point

Chapter 14: Evil Angel

Despite the battle raging on around them, Caroline couldn't hear anything. Silence wrapped around her like a thick blanket as she looked at Scabior, her eyes only focused on him. He was frowning, his eyebrows narrowed, his face illuminated by small flashes of light as curses went flying at the others. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the blood rushing to her face, and his fingers wrapped around her hip. It was only them right now as the truth settled in, and she knew it was the same for him.

He couldn't seem to see anything other than her, either.

"You're not…a witch." It was a statement, not a question. She could see the confusion in his eyes even as he said the words and as he tried to decipher everything going on around them, everything that had happened up to this point. It was obvious that he wasn't coming up with much. Hell, even she was confused, and she had known she wasn't a witch for the entire time.

"No," she whispered in confirmation. The girl looked down for a second, her dark lashes fanning out on her cheeks, before looking at him once more. "Do you…believe me?" His eyes, those ice blue eyes, sharpened as he took her in. Everything from her dirty face, to her torn jeans, her wide dark eyes, and messy brown hair. None of it escaped his gaze. Her hand clenched on his arm, as if the contact would help him make up his mind.

"Yes," Scabior said just as quietly, but firmly.

Something had changed between them.

He knew it.

And she knew it.

His eyes never leaving hers, Scabior stood up slowly until she had to crane her neck up to see him. With a blank face, he extended his arm down, palm up. Caroline reached for it without hesitating, and found that though his hand was filthy, it was exceedingly warm. His fingers wrapped around hers and he lifted her easily to her feet. They stood chest to chest for all of thirty seconds before he pushed himself away from her.

He looked slightly uneasy, as if he wasn't sure where to go from there.

It was certainly a first for him.

The sound of something catching fire broke their trance, and his face immediately hardened.

"I want you to find somewhere to hide. You are not to come out until I come for you, do you understand me?" The last sentence was technically a question, but it came out more like a demand. Apparently the Scabior she had come to know was back. Caroline nodded, and without another word, went in search of a hiding place.

She ran for a few minutes, almost blind in the darkness, before finding a rather large log to hide behind. Hastily lowering herself to her knees, she crawled underneath the bush to securely place herself behind the large piece of wood. Panting, the girl tried not to focus on the shouts and blasts that came from the campsite, but she found she could not. She told herself not to look, but her morbid curiosity quickly took over. Instead, Caroline poked her head up enough that she could ever-so-slightly see the small battle that raged on before her, and she considered it a small blessing that her dark hair would be hard to spot in the darkness of the forest. She sat like that, waiting, for what seemed like an hour as the men continued fighting. And suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

Why was she waiting?

Any smart person would have taken the chance to run away whilst the Snatchers were otherwise occupied. Any smart person would be miles away by now, searching for someone to help them. Any smart person would have taken their chances in the woods at night to find some sort of safe haven. Any smart person would have said "Ciao!" before sprinting off, not even taking a moment to consider what might become of their captors.

But as Scabior had loved to remind her, Caroline wasn't that smart. Or rather, she didn't always use logic to rule her actions. Sometimes, she based her decisions off of her heart.

And right now, a piece of her heart, albeit a very small piece, was telling her to stay.

And for some reason, she listened. Though she would never know why…

She knew, logically, that she should have left. Caroline knew, without a single doubt, that she should have taken her chances in the forest. Should have run for her life. But her legs refused to follow her brain's commands, and instead lay still beneath her bottom as she kneeled behind the log. It was if they had switched their allegiance to her heart, and would not listen to the rationality of her mind.

Again, she didn't know what possessed her to decide to remain with Scabior and his men. Perhaps it was because of the way he had looked at her when he healed the bruises on her throat, or how he had gazed down at her when he finally realized she wasn't, indeed, a witch. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because he had sworn to come back for her, even though she knew of his hatred for 'muggles.'

Either way, she stayed. And either way, it was completely demented.

And she had a feeling that she might regret it later.

But she didn't focus on that.

Though it was the middle of the night, and her body was exhausted, Caroline was wide awake. Her eyes blinked only when they had to, as if they were reluctant to miss even a split second. Her hands had long since stopped trembling, and instead firmly grasped the log to keep her balance. Her breathing had calmed, and Caroline found that while she was frightened, her body was relaxed, and seemed to be adapting to the danger around her.

It wasn't until the first rays of light began creeping upon the forest that the skirmish before her finally ended. It was still dark out, but ever so slowly, tinier details that were missed in the dark could be seen. Like the burn mark on the trees, where the attacker's victim had been standing before they quickly moved away. Or the melted snow that had lost its coldness as the fire's warmth attacked it.

All was quiet. Eerily quiet.

Caroline's body protested as she stood up slowly, muscles stiff after sitting in such an awkward position for so long. Her joints popped, and her hands ached as they loosened their hold on the log. Her right leg tingled harshly as it was jostled from its sleep. Her blood-shot eyes took in everything they could, and after a moment's hesitation, she carefully stepped over the log in front of her, completely forgetting Scabior's word as she moved towards the camp site.

Or what was left of it, anyways.

Leaves and snow crunched beneath her feet as she made her way to the decimated camp site, and the closer she got, and more worried she got. At the moment, no one was there. Not a single soul was in sight. Hands clenching at her side, her eyes darted from left to right, trying to figure out where everyone could have gone. Finally, she stopped. Sighing, she Caroline raised her hand to her face, wiping at her eyes, fatigue finally catching up with her. She closed her lids for a second, before reopening them.

She immediately wished she hadn't.

The second her eyes opened, they found purchase on another body, lying just five feet away from her. And she was horrified to realize that the face was familiar.

Lying on his back, eyes open even in death, blood oozing from several slashes across his body…was Leo.

Stumbling back, Caroline felt a scream making its way up her throat. But before she could mutter a sound, a hand covered her mouth and her body was jerked back with such a force that she nearly lost her balance. Her breath caught in her throat.

"I thought I told you to stay put!" a voice whispered harshly in her ears. But Caroline didn't respond. She couldn't. Instead, her shaky hands reached up to grasp the hand that was covering her mouth and she squeezed her eyes tightly, desperate to get the image before her out of her head. She shook her head and bit her tongue, desperate to keep any cries from escaping her. Somewhat shocked by her response, or rather lack thereof, Scabior roughly turned her around in his arms.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked just as harshly. Again, she didn't answer, her eyes still snapped shut together tightly. "What's wrong with you?" he repeated, his hands grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. Caroline reluctantly opened her eyes, and Scabior was startled to see the beginnings of tears forming. Slowly, ever so slowly, Caroline's head turned to the side, and Scabior, following her movement, looked over her shoulder.

His eyes focused on Leo. He cursed.

But he didn't push her away. And for that, Caroline was reluctantly grateful.

Instead, he continued to hold her to him, even if the touch itself wasn't comforting. But Caroline didn't care. Just having someone there, even a madman, was enough. She tried to focus on the man's nails digging into her upper arms, or the unsteadiness of her breathing, rather than the picture of Leo's lifeless eyes staring up at her. She shuddered, but it had nothing to do with the cold, and released a low, pitiful keening sound.

Immediately, Caroline was fully engulfed in Scabior's arms as he pulled her tightly to his chest. Too shocked to let out of any sort of noise, Caroline stood there stiffly, afraid to move. But when Scabior's hand landed lightly on the back of her head, and pushed it gently under his chin, her resolve broke, and for what seemed like the hundredth time she had been captured, she burst into tears again. No comforting words were spoken, in fact, no words were spoken at all, but it was the first time anyone had ever held her while she cried since her brother died. And even though it was Scabior, a man she was determined to hate, she found herself not caring.

Again, another turning point had been reached. And there was certainly no turning back now.

It was amazing how a man who had done nothing but hurt and torment her since he had found her in the forest that fateful night was the only thing currently keeping her from pure insanity. And that was ironic, seeing as how most of the time, it was he who nearly drove her there.

When the last tear had been shed, and rationality returned to her, Caroline pushed herself away from Scabior. Careful to avoid looking at Leo, she glanced around, trying to assess the additional damage.

And also trying to avoid Scabior's eyes.

"You should go back to the camp," he said gruffly, and without emotion, as if trying hide the softer side he had just displayed. The cold Scabior was back."They…uh…should be finished cleaning everything up by now." Caroline merely nodded her head and set off. She didn't ask what Scabior intended to do with Leo's body. She didn't want to know.

Her stomach tossed and turned at every visual that entered her mind.

So, without a word, she made her way back to the camp, making sure to avoid looking at the ground, fearing what else, or who else, could be lying there. She found a log near where her tent had previously been, and took a seat quietly. Leaning forward, and struggling not to cry again as she took in the carnage around her, she put her head in her shaking hands.

What a night. What a horrible, disastrous night.

Caroline could hear the men as they spoke loudly around her, having oddly reappeared out of nowhere. They chatted idly, as if the deaths created by their own hands meant nothing to them. But then, she shook her head, once again realizing that these men did not hold anything sacred. In fact, they almost seem to relish in the knowledge that the families of those who attacked them would never see their loved ones again. The harshness of the reality made Caroline feel sick to her stomach. It was one thing to hear about the atrocities in the world, it was a completely different thing to witness it.

Because Caroline knew, without a doubt, that these men were monsters. They seem to lack all humanity and any sense of goodness, and instead, displayed hatred and violence for no reason. And though Caroline was used to the violence and obvious hatred coming from her parents, in no way, shape, or form, did it relate to what she had witnessed the past few days.

It made her feel like she had lived a very sheltered life.

"Girly, why aren't you helping us clean up?" Fenrir's voice broke the silence she had tried to create around herself. "Not very polite of you." Caroline ignored him. Suddenly, she felt a hand push her off her log. Startled, Caroline stumbled to her feet and glared up at the man in front of her.

"Don't touch me again," she snapped. Fenrir merely grinned, a sinister look that fit his face too well, and shrugged his shoulders. In an uncharacteristic move, he walked away, without pushing for more of a fight. Relieved, and somewhat suspicious, Caroline watched him leave, her shoulders sagging with the exhaustion that suddenly hit her like a freight train. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she fell back on to the log heavily, and once again placed her head in her hands. The tears had long since ceased, but her dinner was still churning angrily in her stomach.

She tried to ignore it, she honestly did, but when the bile began rising in her throat, she refused to swallow it. Instead, she leaned over, and lost the contents of her stomach to the bush behind her. When she was done, she raised a shaking hand to wipe her mouth, and cringed at the site on the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

Disgusting.

But at this point, everything was disgusting to her.

She dimly heard Scabior's voice adding to the mixture of the other men's, ordering them around like it was his God-given right. But again, Caroline ignored the commotion around her, deciding that she'd rather not see what was happening to the bodies that littered the forest ground.

"Please! Please, don't hurt me!" the high-pitched cry of man startled Caroline, and she found herself looking around the besieged campsite, determined to find the cause. Her dark eyes landed on an older man kneeling on the ground in front of Scabior, tears pouring down his face.

One of the attackers had survived after all, and Scabior seemed oddly pleased at the sight before him.

"Please," the man cried again, bringing his hands up in front of him, and clasping them together as if he meant to pray. "Please, I have children," he whimpered.

"And maybe you'll get to see them again, if you answer my questions," she heard Scabior reply lightly, as if having a man begging for his life at his feet was nothing out of the ordinary. The man closed his eyes tightly and shook his head, a look of despair crossing his features.

"I can't," he hiccupped. "I can't tell you anything." Scabior gave a mock sigh.

"Well," he drawled, "I suppose you are of no use to me then." Scabior drew his hand up, wand pointed at the man's face. However, before he went through with his imposed threat, he met Caroline's horrified eyes. She hadn't muttered so much as a peep, but somehow, he had known she was watching him.

The features on his face softened for a fracture of a second, before they hardened once more, and a sadistic glint lit in his eyes. Ripping his gaze away from her, he looked back down at the man, raised his arm once more, and with an angry cry, a flash of green light erupted from his wand.

The man fell to the ground, the light gone from his eyes.

Caroline didn't have the energy to scream. Instead, she stood there, horror-struck eyes taking in the scene before, brain attempting to make sense of what had just happened.

Hadn't she seen enough death tonight?

Her mind replayed the coldness of Scabior's gaze right before he killed the man, and any sort of connection she had begun to feel for the man abruptly evaporated. Her hatred for him returned with abundance, and Caroline was too sickened to even look his way for another second longer.

Instead, she turned back to the bush behind her, and promptly threw up for the second time that night.

A/N: I am so sorry this took soooooo long, my lovelies. Nothing was coming to mind, so I kept putting it off. And before I knew it, months had already gone by. I hope this satisfied your need for another chapter, and I hope, as much you do, that I'll be able to put another one soon. Until then, enjoy!

This chapter is titled after the song "Evil Angel" by Breaking Benjamin. This song is kind of talking about the many sides of Scabior. Up until this point, Caroline has only really seen him as evil, but she's beginning to discover that there may be more to her captor than she originally thought.